


Happy New Year

by Jem (allonsymous)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Holiday, Introspection, Memories, New Years, Regeneration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 03:17:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9157843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allonsymous/pseuds/Jem
Summary: Rose Tyler wakes up from a bad dream, and has sudden a realization.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Tumblr's @ktrosesworld, @nannyogg123, @thedeliriumtennants, @goingtothetardis, and @pillie-biper10, who all sent me personal happy new year wishes, and to @miss-duria-blue and @wordsintimeandspace, who sent me comfort and well wishes last night because I’d had a shit day. You guys are all so full of awesome and loveliness and joy and humor and the best things in humanity. Thank you for bringing a bit more color to my life. You’re collectively one of the better things that happened to me last year.

Rose Tyler’s eyes snapped open as she awoke with a jolt, her whole body tense with the agitation left behind by what must have been a bad dream. The memory of it had already dissolved as she shook the final cobwebs of sleep from her mind and entered fully into wakefulness. Her heart was pounding, and she realized she was hyperventilating. Swallowing dryly as she reached up to wipe a glaze of sweat from her forehead, she methodically slowed her breathing and waited for her heart rate to follow.

The room was still shrouded in darkness, all vague shadows and lumpy silhouettes, splashed with pale blue where moonlight was creeping through the cleft in the window drapes. She looked beside her at the sleeping form of the Doctor, lying half on his stomach, legs and arms sprawled at juxtaposed angles. She couldn’t see his face. It was turned away from her, smashed into the pillow. Miraculously, he wasn’t snoring. He almost always snored. It was a nice snore, more like a soft purr, which she found comforting. It seemed fitting that he wouldn’t be snoring now, when she was feeling restless and upset, though she couldn’t quite grasp why.

She gently rolled out of bed, careful to put the blankets back to keep the Doctor warm, before slipping a silk dressing gown over her nightie, leaving it untied as she crept from the room.

In the kitchen, she flicked on the stove light, casting a yellowish glow across the burners and countertops. She yawned as she filled the kettle, then pulled down a cup and the tea tin while she waited for the water to boil.

It dawned on her that it was the first day of the new year. She and the Doctor had been exhausted after a long field mission, and had opted to go to bed early in lieu of staying up late to watch fireworks on telly. Going to the annual Torchwood New Year’s Eve party had already been taken off the table as an option. They’d only just gotten back that afternoon, and they weren’t about to go out again.

God, it almost made her laugh thinking about it. She must be getting old. Back in her old life, in her old universe, she’d never have missed it. And she and the Doctor had gone to dozens of parties all across time and space, even when she felt dead on her feet. Of course, he almost never slept, so she had to work harder to keep up with him then. Now, with him being part human, he needed sleep almost as much as she did. She had to admit, it was nice to have him to snuggle up to at night, rather than falling asleep alone to the sounds of him tinkering in the other room.

She was almost used to it now. It had been five months since he’d come back into her life. But after years of trying to find him, hopping from universe to universe looking for her Doctor, it still seemed unreal at times. She never lost hope, but there were days where she’d come close. His presence was becoming more familiar, but she knew she’d never take it for granted. Not after all they’d been through.

The tea kettle started a low whistle and she took it off the burner before the sound could develop into a full shriek. She didn’t want to wake him just because she’d had a bad night. Hopefully the chamomile tea would help her relax a little. She glanced at the clock. 3:37. There was still time to get a couple more hours of sleep if she could get her nerves to settle back down. Pouring water over the tea, she took her cup and sat down at the table, leaning on the surface with one elbow supporting her head.

She was thinking about all the new years she’d seen. This one held more hope for her than any other new year that she could remember. She’d never celebrated a new year on Pete’s World. It never felt right, not even with Mum there. But she would stay up late, alone, looking up at the sky and thinking about the Doctor, and wondering if this would be the year she’d find him. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like to have some peace—maybe even a little joy—at the turn of the year. Of course, she never really thought about that at all when she was on the TARDIS. Things that memorialized the passage of time were obsolete when you lived on a time machine. The last time she remembered being with someone else on New Year’s was before she met the Doctor. She’d been out with her mum, and they were walking home in the snow when the year turned over. God, she hadn’t thought about it in ages. That was the year that strange bloke had been standing on the corner, not half drunk, wishing her happy new year. She never did get a very good look at him in the dim light. He was slouching, leaning against the building, but she could tell he was tall, and he wore a long coat that hung down to his trainers.

“Rose?” the Doctor’s voice, still husky with sleep, brought her to the present. He was in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning against the frame, a dressing gown hanging open down to his knees over a t-shirt and flannel pajama pants. The subtle light from the stove cast him mostly in shadow, but splashed down his face and torso.

Rose stared at him. _I bet you’re gonna have a really great year._ “D… Doctor?” she whispered.

“Rose, what’s wrong?” He pushed away from the door and crouched down in front of her, reaching up to wipe tears from her cheek.

“Doctor… I think you… I think he… he said goodbye.”

The Doctor sighed, wrapping her in a gentle hug as she wept into his chest.

“Did you?” she asked between soft sobs.

“No.”

“Then it was him.”

“What do you mean, love?”

“When I was… before I met you, this bloke—I met this bloke, just for a second. He wished me happy new year. I think it was you…”

He pulled away and looked her in the eye. “You sure?”

She nodded, and he pulled her in again, rubbing her back soothingly. “I thought he was drunk, but he couldn’t have been. I think he was hurt. Sick, or something.”

“He was regenerating.”

“What?”

“I know me. If he came to you, before we met, it was to say goodbye. Before he changed.”

She sobbed freely, and he hugged her tight, peppering her head with soft kisses.

“I’ve been so angry with him… for never saying goodbye…”

“I know…”

“And all this time…”

“I know… it’s okay…” he whispered soothingly.

“I loved him.”

A tear fell from the Doctor’s eye as he stroked her hair, his heart breaking for her. He had never forgiven himself for that day. For walking away without a word.

She pulled away, wiping her cheeks and looking into his eyes. “I still do.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a tender kiss, salty with tears, gentle and mournful and wounded. He kissed her back lovingly, petting her cheek as fresh tears fell. They broke free and he pulled her against his chest, rocking her gently.

“Happy new year, love,” he whispered.

“Happy new year.”


End file.
